


Grooming

by jupiter_james



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel, Canon fic, First Time, M/M, Prompt Fill, Top Dean Winchester, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 13:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16347263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_james/pseuds/jupiter_james
Summary: Castiel hasn't groomed his wings in a long time, and now they're too itchy to ignore. Dean offers to help, though he doesn't understand the significance of the offer. Yet.





	Grooming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Destiels_angels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiels_angels/gifts).



> This is a gift fic for [destielsangel](http://destielsangel.tumblr.com). Thank you for being so wonderful and patient with me!

Castiel realizes that Dean has noticed something off. As much as he tries to hide it, after a while, it simply can't be done. Very few things bother angels. This is one of those things. It crawls through his back to his shoulders, making him shudder occasionally.

Dean sees it when he's passing through the kitchen. He pauses. "You okay, Cas?"

"Yes," Castiel answers shortly, finally giving in and reaching over his shoulder to scratch, though the incessant itch can't be cured by scratching.

"Did you like... get bitten by a mosquito, or something? Can angels _be_ allergic to bugs?"

"No," Castiel gripes. He drops his arms with an angry sigh. There's no use hiding it all from Dean. He's far too curious now, and Dean Winchester doesn't let up once it's piqued. "It's my wings," he says. "They haven't been groomed in... well. A very long time. They've become uncomfortable."

Eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline, Dean says, "that's a thing?" He shakes his head. "Of course it's a thing. Awesome. Okay, what can I do to help?"

Castiel physically balks. Takes a step back. "Nothing," he says. "Dean, I realize that you're being a good friend, but you're a human. Grooming is... intimate." Another shudder runs through him and he winces.

Dean pointedly sets his coffee down on the table. "Right. So, if not me, is there anyone else who can help you? Other angels maybe? Gabe or Hannah, or any other not-so-shitty one?"

Castiel shakes his head vigorously. "Gabriel wouldn't let me live it down, and with Hannah... ah, I'm afraid she'd take it as... something more than what it was."

" _That's_ what gives angels boners?" Dean says incredulously. "Combing out your wings?"

"It's not like that with someone who isn't your mate, or planning to be," Castiel snaps. "You can help as you offered, knowing what it means, or you can get the hell out, but I will not tolerate mocking over something so personal to my kind."

Dean blinks, taken aback. "Sorry, man," he mutters after a moment. "It's just... I mean, you think you know a guy, right? Not trying to offend you."

Castiel considers that. Considers Dean. "I suppose so. If... if you wish to help, I'll accept it gratefully. In fact, it might be easier since there's no significance for you."

Seeing the olive branch for what it is, Dean smiles, nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah. Sure. All right, let's do this thing." He claps his hands once, turns, and tromps to the dorms, Castiel trailing behind, concealing his trepidation. It means nothing to Dean, but if Castiel didn't want any further complications, frankly, he'd let Sam do it. But once Dean had offered, Castiel had been unable to turn him down. Selfishly, it's pure fantasy fulfillment. Be that as it may, he certainly won't compromise his current relationship with Dean for the worse. He can control himself.

At least he hopes he can now that they're in his room with the door closed. "I haven't manifested my wings in a very long time," Castiel warns hesitantly while carefully removing his jacket and shirt.

Dean takes a step back and rolls up the sleeves on his flannel.

Carefully, Castiel lowers himself onto the center of the bed, crosses his legs, and breathes out deeply.

Dean watches in wonder as a pair of midnight black wings unfurl from Castiel's back, displacing the air and wafting a strange, musky scent. "Wow," he whispers. Castiel rolls his shoulders and Dean can't help but stare as his muscles and wings seem to shiver in tandem.

"The process is simple," Castiel mumbles to his lap, the whole situation profoundly embarrassing. "Sit behind me and use your hands to comb through the feathers. It will stimulate the oil glands and make them shiny. Don't worry if any feathers fall out. They're supposed to."

Dean swallows hard and takes up position behind the angel. "Let me know if I do something wrong," he murmurs, the compulsion to be quiet overtaking him. Castiel nods, and Dean reaches out haltingly. Softly, he touches the long flight feathers.

The second there's contact, Castiel makes a choked noise and the wings shudder under him. Dean yanks his hands away, but Castiel follows the movement, pressing back. "It's fine," he gasps. "Just... um... unexpected. The... the wings are quite sensitive on angels."

Cautiously, Dean resumes his... petting, for lack of a better word. And the clumsy ministrations do actually calm Castiel. Dean doesn't know what he's doing. Dean can't know what he's doing. It's good that he doesn't because he can't try to stimulate Castiel's sudden libido faster. It's easier if it's accidental. Castiel folds his hands over his lap, trying his best to hide his burgeoning erection. It's so much worse than expected. Dean's fingers feel like heaven on his sensitive wings. Each place they touch sends a wave of warmth from the spot, roiling upwards into Castiel's vessel.

Luckily, Dean takes his time and Castiel gradually becomes accustomed to the rhythmic downward strokes of his broad hands. In life, Dean is more brute force than finesse, so it's surprising the way that Castiel feels a kinked feather put right with the gentle flick of a finger during an otherwise uninteresting downward stroke. It's soothing and stimulating all at the same time. And it's such a nice feeling that Castiel misses the first sign of his oil glands beginning to produce.

"What's that smell?" Dean wonders, tipping him off.

"My oil," Castiel says, breathing in. To him, it smells mild and slightly sweet. Inoffensive, but rather plain. He's unsure about how it comes across to humans. "Does it smell... strange?" Dean wouldn't know the consequences of his answer, but all the same, he holds his breath waiting for the response.

"It's... dunno," Dean says, sounding a little dazed. "I like it?"

He can't help himself. "It's non-toxic," he says softly. "It won't harm you, even if you ingest it." His throat clicks when he swallows. He adds quickly, "accidentally."

"Yeah," Dean murmurs. His fingers wander high again, but don't immediately begin another descent. Rather, they hesitantly brush from the joints to Castiel's shoulders.

Castiel bites his bottom lip hard. When Dean presses his thumbs against the swollen glands, Castiel's eyes nearly roll back in his head. His ears ring, the only thing breaking through being Dean's voice.

"I know what this is doing to you," sounding nearly tender.

Castiel can't stand all of his years of fantasies coming true all at once. "I didn't know it'd be so... with you." He barely recognizes his own voice. "I'm sorry."

In a fit of bravery, Dean flattens his hands, adding firm pressure upwards until he's spread out against the wing joints. Castiel's wings would be flapping with agitation, but Dean doesn't realize he's pinning them exactly as a mate would, and the bliss that shoots through the angel at being overcome is almost too much to handle.

That is, until Dean leans in and presses his soft lips between the wing joint and the shoulder, tounging at the gland.

Castiel cries out in ecstasy, but Dean's left hand slides forward, bracing his heaving chest so that he can't move away. How does Dean _know_?! Is it pure instinct? It's miraculous.

Slowly, Dean's right hand brushes over the other wing joint, fingering into the glands, leaving a trail of the scented oil trailing over Castiel's ribs, down over the hipbone, and then unerringly to his throbbing dick. There's no mistaking the intent. Castiel moans like a wounded animal.

His wings flutter restlessly when released, fluffing, shivering, aching for Dean. He doesn't know what to do. It's too much? How did he earn his greatest desire? Especially considering he was never supposed to have desires in the first place?

He might as well tempt fate since it's gone this far. He needs Dean's hands in his wings more. He needs all of this. Fluidly, he pushes up onto his knees and turns in the hunter's arms. He waits for a protest that never comes. Dean doesn't make another sound, in fact. He just smashes their mouths together and lets Castiel unbuckle his jeans, releasing his cock from his boxers.

But Dean keeps him grounded. Strange choice of words, but accurate, metaphorically. He parts his lips, coaxing his tongue into Castiel's mouth. A slow, long exploration that Castiel's never quite experienced before. Dean is an _amazing_ kisser. He should have figured. Dean redirects his concentration, urging Castiel to tilt his head. Withdrawing to tease with his tongue against the seam of his lips, interspersing intense, chaste presses of their mouths. He strays every now and then, over Castiel's cheeks, down his neck briefly, but always back to his lips. Worshiping the top lip, then the bottom. They tingle as much as his feathers, shivery fireflies under his skin.

All the while, Dean shows how wonderful of a multitasker he is by sifting his fingers through the inner feathers, the downy short ones soaked with the scented oils. Dean squeezes and kneads, pets and strokes, and Castiel needs something more _now_ or he'll have his release before he's been able to share one iota of his bliss.

Thankfully, Dean's hands begin to wander again, this time towards his skin. Towards their erections.

"Use the oils," Castiel gasps.

"Fuck," Dean whispers back. His hands dig into Castiel's wings, the pleasure almost painful. Dean's hands are soaked, the oil running down his wrists as he slicks up their cocks. And almost before he's ready, Castiel is shoving his hands out of the way, lowering himself onto Dean with a single, powerful thrust.

He doesn't pause; he's too lost. Dean shouts and grabs for his wing joints again, burying his fingers into the muscles, messing up the previously cleaned feathers. Castiel's wings jerk, arching up, then around Dean, and the hunter throws his head back, meeting every one of Castiel's thrusts down with an equally desperate one up.

It's intense, wiping out everything in his mind except for the vague impression that no matter what, this is going to change everything forever.

When Dean comes with a sobbing cry inside him, the impression materializes into fact. Castiel comes with him, his wings tightening, claiming Dean within as his partner.

Dean shakes against him. Says nothing, does nothing. Just breathes. Just clings. Castiel does the same.

Gradually he begins to shift, and Castiel loosens is hold, hoping that he hasn't caused Dean any discomfort, but knowing that the whole situation probably has.

Therefore he's surprised when Dean only moves back enough to be able to slide a hand up between them. He's holding the pinion of a downy feather, shining in the dim room light. "I thought they were black, but they're not," he says with a small smile. He turns is this way and that, and the rich blue undertone catches the warm light.

Castiel smiles too. "They're much more impressive when they're healthy."

Dean huffs a laugh. "Just putting this out there, but whenever you need something like that again?" His eyes raise from the feather to meet Castiel's eyes. "Don't hold back on my account."

Castiel laughs, too, soft and private. "Of course, Dean."

Clearing his throat, Dean astutely senses Castiel's lingering unease. "Hey, uh..." he starts. Castiel blinks up at him, encouraging; pouring all of his heart into his eyes. Hoping Dean understands. Dean reaches up and lightly touches Castiel's bottom lip. "You gotta know I did that 'cause I love you, right?" He says gruffly.

Castiel brings their lips together, trying his best to reenact the intense chaste kiss they'd shared before. "I let you because I love you, too."

Dean dips his head down, the shadows of Castiel's wings shading his face. It's fine. "Yeah," he says faintly. "Yeah, that's good."

Castiel smiles wider, heart full, grace singing. He doesn't mind the embarrassment. They have a lifetime together for Castiel to desensitize Dean to the sentiment. In fact, he's looking forward to it.


End file.
